


Dead Little Angels

by keicros_caramel



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mentioned Haiba Alisa - Freeform, Mentioned Kozume Kenma, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poverty, References to Depression, Unrequited Love, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keicros_caramel/pseuds/keicros_caramel
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Kudos: 5





	1. Before You Read

_I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me._

_He's just a poor boy from a poor family,_

_Spare him his life from this monstrosity._

_Easy come, easy go._

_Will you let me go?_

* * *

**Dead Little Angels  
**c. 2020

_Miya Atsumu_

A strenuous family relationship, a loss of their dad, and turning to alcohol and partying to ease the painーthose were all the poison he picked. 

_Kuroo Tetsurou_

A pickpocket and a burglar, he sells his stolen goods to collect money to go to Tokyo, where the love of his life Kenma now lives. 

_Oikawa Tooru_

Living under an abusive uncle who had him sell drugs for a living, the only good things in his life are his weird friends and his wide influence and sex life. 

_Bokuto Koutaro_

A poor boy who is the only one with good family relations, he steals with Kuroo and sells their goods. He also had a huge crush on the son of the city mayor, Keiji, and wants to get his attention. 

**Before You Read**

This story includes themes of drugs, alcohol, violence (abuse), and death. This may contain words and/or events which may trigger some people and find disturbing.

The story itself is loosely based on the theme of "Macarthur" by Bob Ong and the characters are from the anime Haikyuu.

 _Dead Little Angels_ is purely a work of fiction by _Keicros Caramel_. Any other characterization and events are purely coincidental. 

Viewer discretion is advised. 

* * *

_Anyone can see, nothing really matters._

_Nothing really matters to me._

_~ Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen_


	2. Mr. Stoned Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atsumu is high and the eggs aren’t cooked properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the pink nail polish emoji.

The deafening silence at morning breakfast lulled him back into sleep, all whilst trying his hardest to focus on chewing his mother’s poached eggs. His eyes never met his mother’s, nor did it meet Osamu’s. 

They simply sat on the same table, not as a family but as a group of three people just existing together, acting as if the morning news of a local drug lord murder was a nice welcome for a Tuesday. 

Atsumu wished his eyes weren’t as red as they felt. How much did he drink last night? 

“Honey, can you pass the orange juice?”

No names mentioned, but Atsumu doesn’t need to raise his head to know that their mother was talking to Osamu. He kept forking his rice down, focusing getting the dry breakfast down. That was goal number one for today: get it down and keep it that way. 

At hindsight, he saw Osamu pass the pitcher silently. He kept his eyes down and forked his breakfast as he chewed, watching the egg yolk bleed into his rice as if it was the most interesting thing since the Moon landing. As the news switched to commercials, he was about to fall back to sleep right then and there when Osamu dropped his utensils on his plate with a loud clang.

“So that’s it, huh? Silent treatment?” 

“Osamu,” their mother warned. Atsumu raised his head for the first time that morning, only to be blinded by the window right behind his twin. He flinched and held his throbbing head on his hands. 

“Mom, we talked about this,” Osamu whipped through a clenched jaw, possibly in an attempt to prevent Atsumu from hearing the conversation right in front of him. “I’m not asking you to do anything, Mom. I’m just confused why you act like nothing is wrong.” 

“Osamu, it’s because nothing is—“ 

“Nothing?” Osamu widened his eyes and gestured wildly at Atsumu, who watched the back and forth of his family with eyes that begged for sleep. His head throbbed and his vision darkens at the slightest of movements. How did he even get himself downstairs at this rate? “Really, Mom? Nothing?” 

Atsumu finally had his eyes refocus when it landed on his mother. She sat straight, the toast on her plate almost eaten. The twins straightened when she placed down her utensils, inhaled sharply and turned to Atsumu as per Osamu’s inquiry. 

“Atsumu Miya.” 

“...Hi Mom,” he replied sluggishly. It came out through a dry throat. 

“Where did you go last night?” 

“What’s the point, Mom?” Osamu shook his head. “He’s drunk and possibly drugged. Where else could he have been? Just ask him—“ 

“I’m talking to him now like you said, now shush.” 

Atsumu kept his head down for the rest of breakfast―head in the clouds, except the clouds were on fire. He’s very much aware he was still hangover and heaven knows how much sleep he actually got, but he was sure he didn’t smoke the past night. 

He was sure because Oikawa wasn’t with them. 

“...Atsumu!” 

“Huh?” 

In a sudden, Osamu was already behind them, with the sound of the faucet accompanying the dishes. His Mom snapped her fingers in front of his face, successfully gaining his attention. 

“Atsumu, were you at Tooru’s last night?” 

Ignoring Osamu’s quiet “duh” behind him, Atsumu summoned enough consciousness and energy to shake his head. 

“Oh? Where were you then?” 

“Where else? Tsk.” Osamu had gone ignored again. 

“It’s a simple question, Atsumu.” His mom shakily took a sip of water, feigning calmness. “Where were you? That’s all I ask.” 

Probably because she would already know what happened depending on where he was. If it was at Kuroo’s, he was drunk. If he’s with Oikawa, he was high. If he’s with Bokuto, he just ate dinner. That was the way it had always been. 

With a sigh and a sip of the orange juice he initially ignored, Atsumu blinked twice before answering. It was a quiet answer. 

“What was that? Where?” his mom asked again. 

His vision blurred more when he tried to catch his mother’s eyes. Ah, right. He needed to sleep too. 

He pushed his chair back and slowly rose from his seat, eyes closed and body sluggish. It was a miracle he even made it out of bed for breakfast. 

“Atsumu Miya! I’m talking to you!” 

Osamu quickly got rid of the dishwashing gloves and stood beside their mother, who held her heart in shock. Atsumu held the staircase rails for support as he repeated his answer. 

“At...Kuroo’s.” 

He reached his bedroom door a few seconds later when it finally took a toll on him. He switched on the lights and collapsed on the floor. 

He’s never going to trust Kuroo ever again. 

* * *

“THIEF! THIEF! He got my diamond ring!” 

Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat the moment the first woman screamed. He furrowed his eyes and peeked past the roadside, seeing a flash of gray hair under a running teen’s black cap. He took a deep breath right before sprinting to the said cross-road. 

“BOKUTO!” 

The woman and some concerned citizens paused momentarily when he zoomed by, managing to give Bokuto a high-five as they crossed paths on the intersection: Bokuto continuing left and Kuroo straight ahead. With their similar costumes and caps, there’s no way of telling who they were and who got the woman’s ring. 

Spoiler alert, Bokuto still had the ring. 

“I’ll go here, you catch that boy who went that way!” A man, who sounded much a policeman, shouted before sprinting off to Kuroo’s direction. 

Kuroo gulped in realization. If a policeman went for Bokuto, he had an escape route as Oikawa’s house was that way to the left. However, if the police went after Kuroo, he had to do the nastiest thing he had ever done since he ate human placenta by accident. As per Oikawa’s plan, it was according to Plan B. 

_Jeez, human placenta fucking sucked._

“Breathe, breathe, breathe,” he chanted to himself, keeping his vision clear of pedestrians and boulders. He started to gain attention from the screaming that came from the police who went after him, filled with taunting and frustration. 

Run, run, run—it was all he was good at. 

They cursed his delinquency, and warned him of the consequences he will face. Some other concerned citizens also joined the police in chasing him, trying to catch him or his clothes to no avail. All their words: Jail time this, karma that; it was all too redundant. Honestly, won’t they just run and focus on getting him? 

They are the very reasons why he gets away with everything. The world was too slow for someone like him. 

Kuroo finally saw the street alley he was headed to, as per Plan B. He held the street pole to swing smoothly to the left, using the trashbins to jump up past the wall at the end. Beyond that was the dearest forest, and of course a road that will take him back to their hometown. 

A hometown that hated them but a hometown nonetheless. 

He was Kuroo Tetsurou, born in Miyagi. 

“He’s getting away!” the police said, reaching the alley entrance meters away from him. He had already perched himself atop the wall, and even had the audacity to wave goodbye. 

“The little shit—He’s going to jump!” 

Kuroo was already falling. 

He hopped off the edge and rolled his fall, landing on soft grass that almost knew his shape from God knows how many times he fell. He laid there a few moments laughing in victory and at the adrenaline before taking off deep in the forest and back home.

Home sweet home. Another mission is successfully completed. 

* * *

In Oikawa’s humble opinion, the Miya Twins were an odd bunch. 

He wasn’t particularly close to Osamu, but from what he had seen and what he had heard, he was just as bizarre as his brother. In the end, there are a hundred or so things they shared—like how they both had a habit of putting their shoes on without untying the laces, or how they have that weird accent from their hometown. However, there is just one thing they don’t have in common. 

That was being friends with the one and only Oikawa Tooru.

“The fuck ‘ye doing here?” 

The door opened and the less mean twin opened the door. Evident from the hair and the clean look on his face, it was Osamu Miya, the younger brother. The one whose tongue apparently haven’t tasted beer yet. _Honestly, what a shame._

“Where’s Ats—“ 

“Asleep.” The door slammed to his face and left him staring at oak for a good 30 seconds straight. 

“YO, WHAT?!” Oikawa knocked on the door again, this time angrier. “DID YOU JUST—“ 

“Go away!” Osamu shouted from the inside. “I’m calling the police!” 

He had no choice but to turn away. He sat on the porch for a few good minutes, waiting just in case the shouting was loud enough to wake Atsumu up. If he were honest, he doesn’t even get why he was there to check up on the drunkard anyway. If Kuroo didn’t text him, he wouldn’t go face anyone at all in the first place. 

Five minutes had passed and Atsumu’s window on the second floor remained unopened. At this, he decided to let it go and call Kuroo. 

_Dialing Rooster Head...._   
_0:01_

“The bitch is still passed out,” he said before Kuroo can even say hello. “How are you?” 

“Mission accomplished!” Kuroo laughed on the other line, panting and possibly walking his way home. “He isn’t awake? Where will we meet then?” 

“Is your garage open?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Perfect.” 

The two awkwardly remained quiet on the line. Oikawa kicked pebbles on his way home, while Kuroo only ran. Being mutual friends of Bokuto, Oikawa wasn’t really sure how he ended up being friends with Kuroo as well. However it was, it was only a few months ago. 

“You tell Bokuto,” they both said at the same time. Oikawa dropped the call first. 

That means he won. 

* * *

Nice chicken. 

Baby chicken. 

The smell filled the air of the Kuroo household’s dark kitchen, lit only by the light that enters through the window. As much as Kuroo manages to actually cook in a house that never had electricity, a bigger problem lies on the fact that he can only afford the chicken's egg instead of the chicken itself. 

With his cooking skills to make up for it, he can make fried eggs smell like chicken nonetheless. 

"I'm hungry!" Bokuto moaned just outside, by the car-less space he still liked to call his garage. From the muffled voice he can hear, Bokuto must have pressed his face flat on the surface. 

"Go eat a poisonous frog." Oikawa grinned, setting up some cold water by buying some ice cubes next door. 

Instead of a car, Kuroo had set a foldable picnic table in the middle of the empty space. When Oikawa's uncle is home and Bokuto's house is unavailable for some reason, that picnic table knew their blood, sweat, tears and vomit instead. It knew them more than their respective beds ever do. 

"Eggs are ready." Kuroo kicked the door open and on his gloved hands were two plates of eggs and rice. "Bon appetit, mon modeur-faquers." 

"Fuck you too," Oikawa laughed, scooting away to make room for Kuroo on the bench. "Do the accent again." 

"Modeur-faquers." Kuroo did a chef kiss as the three started to feast on their dinner. 

"That could be our band name!" Bokuto beamed, mouth already full. "The Mother Fuckers." 

"No, it's modeur-faquers." 

"The way you speak French makes me want to punch you in the guts." The trio finally turned to the food after a short unironic prayer. Alas, it was the feast. 

However, a set of footsteps treaded to their direction; a messy blonde bedhead peeking atop of Kuroo's garage gate. 

"Sleeping beauty arrived," Oikawa mused, chewing a mouthful of eggs and rice. 

Kuroo sat an obviously hungover Atsumu down beside Bokuto, setting a plate for their friend even if he doesn't look like he can even speak. 

Bokuto shifted uncomfortably beside him, sending worried glances to the other two as if to ask for help. Kuroo shrugged and focused on the meal he prepared, remembering to be thankful he had enough to eat something tonight. Oikawa, on the other hand, rolled his eyes at the sight. Someone has to break the glass sooner or later, why not now? 

"Sheesh, kid. Did the hungover pills not work on you?" 

Atsumu was tracing the silver of the utensils, much like a child without appetite. However, he took a deep breath and summoned enough energy to grip them and start eating. 

"Mom and 'Samu thinks I'm high." 

"Aren't you though--Ow!" Kuroo elbowed Oikawa before he can continue. Bokuto remained quiet, but they can see him pat Atsumu softly before he resumed eating. For a few moments, in the dark of night and the light of everything they came through, all that is to be heard are the spoons sliding against porcelain. In that moment, it was already more than enoughーto have something to eat and to eat it with friends. 

Kuroo blinked up and stared at Atsumu. Being the youngest, he almost regretted tolerating all the vices the three of them had put him through. His family environment wasn't satisfactory and that makes up the four of them, but he knew they could have denied him from the start. 

Atsumu laughed. "The egg...isn't cooked right." 

As Oikawa and Bokuto immediately went into defense of his delicious eggs, Kuroo can only smile at the remembrance. Right, he thought. If they denied Atsumu from the beginning, where else would he eat crappy egg dinner tonight? 

At this rate, the kid would starve. 

_To be continued..._


End file.
